


From the Edge of the Deep Green Sea

by a_silver_sun



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Desert Island, Gen, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-04-19 02:09:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4728809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_silver_sun/pseuds/a_silver_sun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a new rage monster makes an appearance, a bored Tony Stark pays Bruce a visit. Together they must track down this new threat and vindicate Bruce in the process.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

For some reason, the first thing the work crew did when they showed up at the condo that morning was to set up the TV. Tony didn’t understand why they’d bother doing that; it wasn’t as if those guys were going to be kicking back and watching the game or whatever. Besides, whatever was on the TV wasn’t going to provide anywhere near enough of a distraction to keep Tony out of their hair, if that was the reasoning. Not only was Tony not adequately distracted, he also didn’t have anyone to distract. He hated to admit it, but he missed Pepper. She had this annoying habit of being a responsible adult (though someone had to, he supposed) which in this case meant running their little Mom and Pop.  
  
So it was up to Tony to oversee the move into their new condo. Before she left, Pepper had patted him on the shoulder and promised she’d make it worth his while if he agreed to this one thing. Whatever, easy enough, right? Though he had come to deeply regret agreeing (getting suckered into) Pepper’s plan five hours in to it, mostly because he didn’t have any of his toys to play with. Setting up the workshop should have been the first priority. Who even needed bedrooms and bathrooms and whatever else when he could be building shit?  
  
After boredom got the better of him, he got up to pace. He tried flagging down the foreman to get his attention, but apparently the guy had been warned off about him ahead of time, because he was pretty adept at making it plain that he was there to work, not to entertain bored billionaires.   
  
On the coffee table in front of him sat a stack of books: boring art books and puzzle books—word searches and crosswords; that sort of thing. He rifled through the stack and settled on the Sudoku, but lost interest half way through the first puzzle. Tony absently twirled the pencil in his hand and eyed the rest of the then sitting innocently in the nearby pencil holder. He plucked one from the cup because they were just crying out to be used as drumsticks. Armed with two Stark Industries branded pencils, he settled on an old rock and roll fantasy pretending he was somebody a little less Tony Stark and bit more Neil Peart.   
  
Alas, his short-lived stint amongst rock’s royalty flamed out the moment some flickering image on the TV caught his attention. Tony set aside his pencils and turned up the volume.   
  
On the large screen in front of him amateur video played, and in it, there was a Hulk.  
  
“No one tells me anything,” he mumbled, as he pulled his phone from his pocket.  
  
In the last half hour, he’d apparently missed several dozen phone calls and about as many text messages. Some had been from Romanoff, but most of them were from Rogers.  
  
He tried Steve first. “Pick up pick up pick up.” Then he tried Romanoff. When that didn’t work, he tried the ‘New Avengers’ facility proper. (In or out, Stark, can’t have it both ways. He really wanted it both ways.)  
  
On screen, the blurry outline of a Quinjet swooped over the Big Guy. A figure dropped to the ground just as the cargo bay door opened. Romanoff, Tony presumed. He’d seen this movie before; she and Banner had this down to a science.  
  
There wasn’t a shred of recognition in the Big Guys eyes. No lullaby this time. Romanoff paused, probably gauging the situation, and then turned to run as the creature reared up, swatted at her, and gave chase. The Quin swooped down and scooped her up. Any later and they would have been Quinjet Helper.   
  
The creature roared in frustration just as the video started to break up. “Pause,” he said. When nothing happened, he cursed, and then fumbled for the remote. “Don’t make that face, it’ll freeze that way,” Tony said to the rage beast stuck mid-snarl on his TV screen.  
  
Tony didn’t know who or what that thing was, where it came from, or why. What he did know, if he knew anything, was this: the creature rampaging through downtown Nowheresville today was not the Hulk the world knew and loved (or despised, as the case may be.)   
  
The cable news outlets predictably threw a shit-storm.  
  
After having to listen to more than thirty seconds of well-coiffed talking heads stoke fear and speculation about one Bruce Banner, Tony wanted to throw things at his TV. Instead, he switched it off and sent the work crew home. (Pepper could yell at him about it later.) Then he set to work.   
  
First order of business was getting his workshop up and running. He switched on the lights, then he brought up a holographic map of the world, which splashed across every corner of the workshop’s floor. The entire world sparkled with dozens of glittering, stars, each one representing a piece of Stark tech. With a quick tap, he disabled any and all stealth devices. He might be more than happy to loan out his stuff, but didn’t trust that one-eyed bastard, not for half a second. More flickering dots materialized, though he waved away anything that fell outside of his search criteria. After all was said and done, one single speck remained glittering and gleaming over his head, pointing the way like guiding star. .  
  
“You,” Tony said to the solitary speck, "I have a good feeling about you.” This had to be Bruce's Quinjet. Well, its transponder, anyway. He knew it could represent nothing more than a debris field, but he held out hope and reached out to the lonely speck dancing above his head. He plucked it out of the air and held in his palm like a wish. He smiled widely at it and said, "Let's go say hello."  
  
*  
  
Several hours later, Tony was coasting over endless ocean at a casual Mach two, singing "My Girl," because he liked to be as obnoxious as possible.  
  
Mister Stark,” Friday said.  
  
“Come on, you know you love it.”  
  
“Yes, of course,” she said. “But that isn’t…"  
  
“It’s okay to lie to my face,” he said. “I’ll forgive you, but just this once.”  
  
“Mister Stark,” she said again. He didn’t bother hiding his smirk, because annoying people (AI or otherwise) was one of life’s great joys. “We got ourselves incoming,” she said and well, wasn’t that sobering.  
  
“All right,” he said. “All hands on deck.”  
  
The HUD lit up in front of him like Christmas. “Incoming,” of course, was his favorite giant green wrecking machine. This was not going to be a peaceful reunion by any means, but Tony couldn't exactly blame the guy. Nobody liked having their privacy invaded, rage monsters included. One time some hack photog snuck over the seawall in Malibu, snapping pics of him and Pep from under the cover of some nearby brush like the coward he was. The guy scurried off when Tony threatened to repulsor blast him out to sea, which would have been hilarious if the whole thing didn’t piss him off as much as it did.  
  
“I feel like I could have a lot say about those bloodsuckers,” he muttered.  
  
“Sure, boss,” Friday replied, clearly not following.  
  
Tony dodged and weaved like a pro, but, “Impact in three, two…”  
  
“Yes, thank you,” he bit out.  
  
Hulk body-slammed into Tony. The impact knocked the wind out of him, and then he was in freefall.  
  
He refused to panic. (The wide, empty vastness of space opening up and swallowing him whole…)  
  
Friday said something, but Tony was too busy trying to remember how to breathe. Hulk grabbed his leg, and at least the world stopped spinning around him for half a second. That counted as a plus in Tony’s book. Then the big guy threw him.  
  
He spun for a terrifying second or two until he remembered what he was doing. “Right, repulsors,” he said, as he course-corrected. "Bear with me, it’s my first day."  
  
“Hulk containment is up and ready,” Friday reminded him.  
  
“And her name was Veronica,” Tony sang. But that seemed a little extreme to him. “Not this time,” he said. “This is just a big loud dog behind the helpful no trespassing sign.” If the green machine meant to do him actual damage, he would.  
And to prove Tony’s point for him, Hulk did just that.  
  
*  
  
Tony opened his eyes. Or, at least he tried to. He couldn’t see a damned thing except for a light so bright it bordered on violence.  
  
“Oh, god,” he muttered. “I died. I’m dead and I died, and I don’t even believe in—"  
  
“Good thing you’re not being dramatic,” someone said over him. Tony was pretty sure it was Bruce. “Here,” the voice said. With the rustling of some fabric and a screech of something metal, a cool gray shadow fell over everything around him. It was beautiful. Sure enough under some sort of make-shift tent stood the man himself. Bruce was barefoot, and swimming in an enormous t-shirt. At least those shorts Tony designed for him were holding up. Tony waggled his fingers as a hello.  
  
“Better?”  
  
“Yeah,” Tony said, “Except for the pain. Thanks for that, by the way. Didn’t expect the Welcoming Committee.”  
  
Bruce gave Tony a hard look. “You shouldn’t have come here, Tony. I didn’t want--”  
  
“There you go assuming everything’s about you.” Tony tried to sit up.  
  
“Uh huh,” Bruce said. He reached out and held Tony’s elbow for support.  
  
“Sure. I needed a vacation. Ow. I think I broke a rib,” Tony said.  
  
“Well, that’s reasonable. You wanted a beach get-away, so you just happened to get away to mine. Nothing’s broken by the way,” Bruce said. Tony lifted his shirt. Large angry red lines crisscrossed his abdomen. It wasn’t great, but he’d certainly had worse. “If you want, I can stitch that up. It’s up to you. But,” he said, “I don’t have pain meds. Or antibiotics. If you’d called before coming over…”  
  
“Forget it,” Tony said. “I’m not going to be offended because you didn’t vacuum the house first, or whatever.”  
  
“Yeah,” Bruce said. “So you’re good.”  
  
Tony shrugged.  
  
“Okay, well, there’s water, and I think there’s still some dried fruit. I’m gonna,” and he was avoiding Tony’s gaze now, “go and--”  
  
"Are you kidding me right now."  
  
"I have... things, Tony. I have things to do and I'm not going to drop everything--”  
  
“You are a terrible host.”  
  
Bruce offered a perfect deadpan. "And you're a terrible guest. An uninvited one I might add. Just because you’re injured--”  
  
“Yup," Tony said. “Wonder how that happened. Funny, I do seem to recall coming under attack just as I got here.”  
  
Bruce closed his eyes. “Uninvited,” he repeated. He shook his head, and made a face. “Tony, I have to-- I’ll be back before sunset.” And with that, he turned around and left.  
  
Well that was just great. “Thanks for stopping by,” Tony muttered.  
  
*  
  
He spent the next several hours exploring Bruce’s little homestead. He located his suit in a heap next to an elaborate water collecting contraption. He found the promised store of fruit. Some it was in fact of the dried variety, but there was also some he couldn’t identify. He found a fire pit. He didn’t find the Quinjet.  
  
He was relieved to find the outhouse.  
  
“Compost,” Bruce told him later. “Humanure.”  
  
“Hu-?”  
  
“Manure.”  
  
“My god, you are such a hippie.”  
  
The suit wasn’t anything close to flight-ready. Prying the face plate open, he said, “Hey, Fri. You awake in there?”  
  
A spray of sparks met his question, and then silence.  
  
He made a face. “Well okay then.”  
  
Tony ate a handful fruit and explored a bit of the island’s mountainous interior. He made sure to return to the camp before sundown.  
Bruce didn’t return before sundown though, the lying bastard.  
  
Instead, Hulk sat his giant green ass next to where Tony had fallen asleep. It must have been some time in the small hours of the morning, if the position of the moon was anything to go on, but Tony couldn’t be sure. Time felt tenuous on the island for some reason, less solid. He gazed up at the clear, star spattered sky overhead, and his stomach lurched.  
  
“Eat,” Big guy said. A huge dead fish sat at Tony’s feet. Hulk looked smug.  
  
“I am all set.”  
  
Hulk huffed, then picked up the fish and threw it next to the fire pit. “Eat,” he said again, this time sounding a little more insistent.  
  
“Yeah, yeah. No need to be so pushy,” Tony said. He gathered up some of the twigs and branches piled nearby, and set to building a fire. He fantasized for a moment setting it ablaze with a quick repulsor blast, but alas. “So,” Tony said as he worked. “Not that I’m not overjoyed to see you, Big Green…” He gave Hulk a quick glance. “And I realize my company is completely irresistible--”  
  
“Find,” Hulk said.  
  
The flame caught and Tony backed away. Then he speared the fish for roasting.  
  
“Yeah. I get that you’re not overjoyed about that.”  
  
Hulk cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes.  
  
“Look,” Tony said. “I didn’t come out here to spoil your peace and quiet. In fact, I think that ship sailed. I just thought you had the right to know it.”  
  
Hulk blinked at him.  
  
Tony sighed. This was a productive conversation.  
  
“Find,” he said again.  
  
“Still stuck on that, huh.” Tony pulled the fish out of the fire and set it to cool on the fire pit’s stone perimeter. “Some?” Tony gestured at the fish.  
  
Hulk nodded, so Tony tore it in half and threw some his way. Eating bland fish with a friend at something-o’clock in the morning wasn’t so bad. He picked at his meal with his fingers, which ended up messier than expected. Hulk wore a goofy, lopsided grin as he chewed. After they finished eating, he cleaned up as best as he could but he had no idea what to do with the waste. Bruce had a compost heap, but he didn’t know if fire-roasted fish bones were even compostable, and he didn’t have much confident Hulk knew either.   
  
They sat there around the fire under the stars and listened to the roar of the ocean until Tony drifted off to sleep. When he finally woke, he woke up alone.  
  
On his way back from the outhouse, Tony spotted Bruce cleaning out the fire pit.  
  
“This can all go in the compost, you know,” Bruce said.  
  
“Hi to you, too,” Tony said. “And no, I didn’t know that, seeing how you abandoned me last night.”  
  
“Interesting how you assume everything’s about you.”  
  
“Funny.”  
  
“And nobody abandoned you.”  
  
“Oh yeah, the big guy’s a great conversationalist. Taught me how to compost, and everything. Oh wait, no he didn’t.”  
  
“He brought you food,” Bruce offered.  
  
“Yeah, okay,” Tony said. “That was legit. I can’t knock him for that.”  
  
Bruce nodded at him, smiling in that odd way he sometimes does. “How’s the--” He gestured toward Tony’s abdomen.  
  
“Just dandy.” Truth was it stung like a sunnuvabitch.  
  
Bruce pawed through a large pile of plant material; leaves and branches and roots, that sort of thing. It looked like a jumbled mess to Tony, but--  
  
“Ah,” Bruce said to himself. Then, “here, put this under your shirt.” He came over with a huge leaf.  
  
“No thank you?”  
  
He motioned to Tony’s shirt. Tony batted him away. “Get out of here. I don’t want that.”  
  
Bruce shrugged him off and took the stupid leaf to the compost. His obsession with that thing would forever remain a mystery, Tony supposed.  
  
On his way back to the tent, Bruce glanced at the Mark 46, even though he pretended he hadn’t. They had worked on the Hulk containment system together; Bruce knew as well as Tony did that he could have replacement parts here faster than you could say “smash.” The fact that Bruce hadn’t called him out on it was... interesting. Tony guessed it was only a matter of time before that shoe dropped, though.  
  
Bruce walked right past Tony, and sharply jerked his head. “Come on,” he said, not bothering to slow down or otherwise wait for Tony to catch up.  
  
“Oh, I can go with you? I thought you’d rather leave me here on the—"  
  
“You can stay on the beach, if you want. I mean, I don’t care what you do. But,” he turned to look at Tony and scratched the back of his neck. “I thought we could walk.”  
  
*


	2. Chapter 2

They rested after a couple hours hiking through the rocky terrain. Bruce had gathered all manner of roots and leaves and berries to snack on, but--“You’re sure this is all edible? As beautiful as your island is, I’d rather not die here.”

“It’s not my island. And stop being a baby.”

Tony pouted his lip, and batted his eye lashed. Bruce smiled at him. It was a warm smile, a real one. It looked good on him. Tony elbowed him, which only made his smile deepen.

The air was hot and humid. Sometimes if he stayed still enough, he could hear the crash of ocean waves on the other side of the sharp rocky cliff. Bugs buzzed his ear; he felt riper than the rotting fruit he stepped on hiking up here, but the only complaining he heard was from a large bird squawking somewhere overhead.

“This is nice, isn’t it?”

Bruce looked at him for a long moment. “Yeah, I guess it is,” he said.

Bruce offered Tony some berries, which he accepted with a small nod. They were nice, too. He gestured toward the small pile of leaves, seeds, and whatever else went uneaten. “Gonna take that back to your heap?”

“You found me out.” Bruce got up and threw the pile under some brush. “Come on,” he said for the second time that day. He extended an arm and pulled Tony up. Then they continued walking.

“Listen,” Tony said after a while. He supposed he was ready. “I’m not here to learn how to compost.”

“You’re never letting that go, are you?” It was a nice running joke between them now, but now Bruce’s smile seemed hollow.

“It’s… look. I’m pretty sure you’re being set up. I don’t—no actually I do know why. But it looks bad, Bruce.”

“Set up how?” He sounded calm, but in his face a storm raged on.

“Bruce. I… There’s another Hulk out there.” Tony said it all in a rush, as if that would lessen its impact. He winced, because, well, that was stupid.

“Sure,” Bruce said. He seemed remarkably unperturbed. “This was a couple years ago. I’m sure you remember. It was in all the papers.”

“Right,” Tony said, because of course he did. “Harlem. No. this is another ‘nother one.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yup, it was on the TV and everything. If you thought you were insulated out here, boy, do I have bad news.”

“Oh, if it was on TV,” Bruce said. Then, quietly he added, “You want to see what I’ve been up to?”

“Is that a trick question?”

*

Bruce began clearing brush and dried leaves near an outcropping of large rock. He wiped away damp mud and ran his fingers along the square edge of something just underneath the soil.

“I found this the first day here. Actually the Other Guy found it.”

Tony raised his eyebrows.

“I think… I think he has some innate sense of--” Bruce was turning a large metal wheel, like you’d find on an airlock in a submarine. “--Gamma detection, like he can smell it or something. Here we go,” Bruce said, as the hatch opened up.

Tony took a large step back. “Wait, there’s radiation in there?”

“No.”

“But you just said—"

“That’s the thing. There’s trace amounts, but nowhere near enough to cause any real harm.”

“Okay,” Tony said. “And you’re sure there aren’t any more of these hatches kicking around?” Tony said.

“I can’t say I know for sure. But I’ve only found this one.”

“But there could be.”

“Sure. I just haven’t been able to sniff out any.”

“Okay, but, if there’s, like, a button in there you have to push every two minutes, I am outta here. Not sorry.”

“I don’t actually know what that means, but… sure. Whatever you want. Anyway,” Bruce said, “I’m fairly sure that’s why I ended up here. I mean, I don’t think it’s a coincidence.”

They descended down into musty darkness, with Tony following behind. He couldn’t see anything, and hoped Bruce knew the way. “Come on,” Bruce said. He opened up another airlock. Inside was an abandoned lab, with equipment dating back to at least the seventies, as far as Tony could tell. Everything was covered in dust.

“This must have been abandoned a while ago,” Tony said.

“Well there’s this,” Bruce said. Another light flickered on. This lab seemed a little more modern, though thoroughly trashed.

“They either had one hell of a party, or we’re looking at a cover-up.”

“Maybe a bit of both,” Bruce said. Tony gave him a deeply skeptical look, and tried to imagine a teenaged Bruce Banner hurriedly cleaning the aftermath of an all-night kegger.

“Yeah, that happened,” Tony muttered. Bruce was giving him an odd look, so Tony said, “Well, come on Weird Science. Let’s see what we got.”

Tony started nosing around. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for. A lot of stuff was smashed up on the floor. He glanced up at Bruce for some kind of hint, but he just stood back in the corner with his hands together, bent over and small. Tony rolled his eyes at him and continued rummaging through whatever he came across.

Tony picked up a notebook, and behind him, Bruce shifted.

This was some kind of HYDRA base, according to the notes.

“I thought HYDRA was done. We got them all, I thought,” Tony said. “These guys were holdouts, like those soldiers in the Pacific Theater. No one told them the war was over.” It was a good a theory as any. Then he came across it. Tony wasn’t surprised, per se, but—He looked up at Bruce. “Ah ha,” he said, brandishing the notebook at Bruce. “See? What did I tell you.” Tony flipped the pages at Bruce, who, for some reason, was looking at the floor.

“Tony,” he said, sounding so broken that Tony let at least a dozen smart-ass comments die in his throat. “I hate that you’re involved in this. It’s my mess, I didn’t even--”

“See, and I hate that you do that. I came all this way, didn’t I?”

“There’s no evidence they actually—"

Tony tapped the notebook against his palm. His patience drained away. “What is this then, a relaxing day on the beach? Also, I must have imagined that big ugly guy on TV. Sorry to waste your time.”

“I’m just saying; we don’t actually know they’re connected.”

“Are you for real? We have a lead; now we go and expose these sons of bitches. And exonerate you while we're at it. That sounds like a win-win to me.”

“Go where? New York? No. I’m not leaving, Tony. I’m… I’m off the chessboard.”

“Fuck you, you’re not leaving. Remember how I told you that ship sailed? Well it did, big time. And here’s our proof. You can’t just stay here, Bruce.”

Tony started gathering books, and papers, and whatever else he could find. “You know what, do whatever you want.” Bruce could just stay here, Tony didn’t care.

He regretted flouncing out on Bruce as he struggled to climb the ladder that lead back to ground level. He slipped on one of rungs and lost his footing. All the papers he carried slipped out from under his arm and fluttered away to the floor. It was too dark to see where they landed, and he didn’t exactly relish the idea of climbing back down after them. Instead, he levered himself awkwardly against the wall and the airlock. Even in the cramped space, he was able to pry the door open.

“You dropped something,” Dr. Smartass said from somewhere behind him.

“Yes, thank you.”

It was too dark to see, but Tony heard papers shuffling, which must have been Bruce collecting them. Tony opened the hatch. He scrambled out, and managed to slip in mud. Outside was ink black, and spitting with rain. “Careful,” Tony said, and extended an arm to Bruce.

“Well, this is great. Back inside, then.” They could catch some Z’s and trek back to the beach come morning.  
  
“Got your stuff?”

“…Yeah. Why.”

“You want to go back to the beach, right?”

“In the morning I do, sure.”

“I know a shortcut.”

“A short— seriously?” Tony’s stomach dropped out, because what Bruce was proposing was crazy.

“Well, we can wait if you want—"

“Nope, your way is fine.”

It all happened at once. Tony pressed the paperwork firmly under his shirt, as Bruce enveloped him with his arms. Then Hulk shot straight up high over the tree line and landed right next to (what was left of) their tent. Then he tossed Tony in the sand like so much garbage.

“That was completely terrifying,” Tony said. His heart was pounding, and he was shaking a little. “Don’t ever do it again.” Hulk looked like a kicked puppy, so Tony said, “Please. You know me better than that.” The grin Hulk offered was a little terrifying.  
The tent was a tangled mess of metal poles and ripped tarpaulin. Moonlight sparkled on the ocean waves, but it wasn’t enough to see by. Repairs would have to wait until morning.

“Sleep,” Hulk said. The rain picked up, and Hulk curled up under some brush.

“Yeah,” Tony said, and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. Adrenaline crash was a bitch. He sat next to the big guy, who promptly shifted around and over Tony to shield him from the pelting rain. It was warm, and Tony was asleep before he knew it.

*

“Well, isn’t this cozy,” someone said. Tony shielded his eyes from the morning sun. “I didn’t wake you, did I?” Standing over him was none other than ol’ one-eye himself, Nick Fury.

“Well, if it isn’t Mr. Deus Ex Eyepatch himself,” Tony said. He tried to sit up, but Bruce’s arm was dead weight across his chest. Tony elbowed him. “Come on, Sparky. Up and at ‘em. The boss is here.”

“The boss?” Bruce made a hilariously horrified face. “Oh. Hi.”

They disentangled themselves, and Tony tried to pretend it wasn’t completely awkward. He’d say Fury looked deeply inconvenienced by the whole thing, but how could anyone tell? Tony imagined a young Nick Fury’s mother saying to him, “Don’t make that face, it’ll freeze that way.” And Fury’s actually did.

“There’s no getting away from the long arm of shady government agencies, is there,” Tony said.

“Just get sorted out,” he said, and then walked away.

They followed. He could see Fury’s Quinjet about a half mile down the beach.

Come to think of it: “Whatever happened to your Quinjet, anyway? I thought I’d find wreckage, at least,” Tony said.

“Sank,” Bruce said with a shrug.

“What, did you have to swim?”

“That’s my best guess.”

“Your best— oh. Woke up on the beach cold and wet with no idea how you got there, huh,” Tony said. “And it wasn’t even after an amazingly awesome party. Bummer.”

As they approached the Quinjet, Tony saw Natasha Romanoff on the starboard wing, sitting cross-legged. She looked bored. “Heard you boys needed a ride home,” she said when they approached.

“You heard that, huh,” Tony said at the exact same moment she said, “Hi, Bruce.”

He wasn’t really interested in the whole interpersonal mess the two of them had going, so he turned the corner and ducked into the Quinjet’s cargo hold.

“Oh, look at you,” Tony said once he saw the Mark 46. It sat crumpled in a seat, looking forlorn. He jostled it a bit. Then Tony rifled through the overhead compartments looking for an energy bar or an MRE. Anything to eat that wasn’t twigs. He found a bottle of water. Fury ducked in just as Tony took a sip.

“Wheels up in five,” he said.

“Sure,” Tony said, capping the bottle. “What are you even doing here, Nick. It’s kinda—"

Fury cut him off with one hell of a stink-eye. The eyepatch made that markedly more effective, Tony suspected. “You thought I didn’t know about your little vacation.” Truth was Fury hadn’t factored into his thought process even a little bit.   
  
“There’s been more noise since you’ve been out here sunning your belly, and I could use a couple geniuses to put their heads together. Guess what. You’re it.”

Bruce and Romanoff drifted in as Fury was speaking. She patted Bruce on the shoulder, and headed for the pilot’s seat.

“Doctor,” Fury said. “I was informing Stark here why we’ve come all this way to collect you two eggheads.”

“Hey,” Tony said, drawing it out like a five year old.

“I resemble that remark,” Bruce muttered, snorting a little. Tony smiled at him, but Bruce sobered instantly when Fury directed that stink-eye squarely at him.

Tony wanted to sing-song, "Ooh, you’re in trouble,” but decided he didn’t want to get in trouble, either.

“This concerns you the most, Doctor.”

Bruce glanced at Tony cautiously, but Tony shrugged. Then Fury continued.

“I assume Stark told you about the attacks by our new gamma-powered pal?”

“Attacks? Plural? Tony told me—"

“There have three more since Stark left New York.”

“Damn,” Tony said.

“And you want us to track it down,” Bruce said. He didn’t sound very enthused about the idea. “Just so you know-- I am still a fugitive.”

“Of course I know that,” Fury said, a little incredulous. “A Hulk attack on international soil is, frankly, a tricky situation. Politically speaking.” Bruce visibly cringed. “Fortunately, I know all the tricks.”

Bruce took a long look out the still open cargo bay door, his whole form vibrating with indecision. “No one’s telling you what to do.” Fury said. “The offer stands however you decide.”

Uncertain, Bruce glanced again at Tony, so Tony put a hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “Come on,” he said. “It’ll be fun. Like old times.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” Bruce muttered, but he sat down and belted in. With that Fury turned and headed for the cockpit.


	3. Chapter 3

It was quiet, save for the hum and rumble of the Quinjet as it coasted over deep green ocean. At some point during the flight, he must have drifted off. Tony too, as he was still out cold and drooling on Bruce’s shoulder.

“Hey,” a quiet voice said as Bruce tried to extricate himself out from under Sleeping Beauty. He made a ‘stay’ motion over the top of Tony’s head with both hands once he got them both sorted out. Satisfied Tony wasn’t going to move, Bruce looked up.

“Hi,” he said. Natasha was standing in front him, both arms stretched over her head. She was holding onto a strap bolted in somewhere above him for balance.

“Oh, just a…” he made a show of picking up and folding an imaginary jacket from the empty seat to his right, and setting it on his lap. He scratched at the side of his face and offered a hesitant ‘just a second’ sign with his index finger. Then he stowed an imaginary bag under the seat. When he finished with that, he gestured grandly at the now empty seat with both his arms.

“Dork,” she muttered as she passed down two bottles of water and a sleeve of crackers from an overhead compartment. He wordlessly accepted them as she sat down.

“They’re pretty good,” he said appreciatively through a mouthful of dry, salty crackers.

Natasha reached over to brush some crumbs caught on some stubble. He didn’t mean to flinch back when she reached out toward him, and muttered a quiet, “sorry” once he realized he did. She seemed unfazed by his hesitance and tried again, letting her fingers graze over his rough, sandpapered chin a little too long. “You’ve been on a desert island too long if you think stale saltines are good eatin’, Banner,” she said fondly. He tried not to let her see the sharp sense of loss he felt when she pulled her hand away. He wanted to reach out, touch her the same way she did just then; caress her face, run his fingers gently through her hair. He hated that he wanted things to be that simple, and he hated her a little for it. He looked down at his folded hands resting on his knee.

“Natasha,” he said, his voice sticking a little in his throat. He shook his head and forced himself to look at her. “How can I trust you, after what happened last time?” He wasn’t entirely surprised she had betrayed him the way she did when she forced him into the fight back in Sokovia, he just didn’t know if he would be willing to put himself in that sort of position again.

“Maybe you shouldn’t,” she said. She was completely unreadable.

Next to him, Tony stirred.

“We’ll talk later,” she said. She rose from her seat and placed a small chaste kiss on his forehead.

Tony’s head was back on Bruce’s shoulder, with Tony looking up at him with wide, puppy dog eyes. He wasn’t buying the cutesy, eyelash fluttering act for a single second. As if making his point for him, Tony craned his neck over Bruce’s torso and very obviously watched Natasha take her seat at the front of the plane. Then he pointedly looked over at Bruce. He smiled and patted Tony on the head.

“You know,” he said, as he watched her settle into her seat and work the controls in front of her, “I actually have no idea where we’re going.” Bruce looked at Tony for a long moment, “You?” he asked. “I’m not sure why I didn’t think of asking when I had the chance,” he said, mostly to himself.

“I’ve got a pretty good guess,” Tony said dismissively. Inwardly Bruce cringed. He was positive Tony wasn’t answering the first part of his question.

“Speaking of White Nights up there,” Tony said, a little too loudly.

“I don’t think you should--” Bruce said at the same time Natasha flipped Tony the bird.

“She beat me to it,” he said, though Bruce thought maybe Natasha should take the comparison as a compliment, though he guessed it might be better to button his lip. Thinking about it some more, he wondered, “Would that make me Gregory Hines in this scenario? I mean, I don’t exactly know how to tap dance.”

“You’re doing a pretty good job of it right now,” the smug bastard said.

Bruce groaned. Thankfully Tony dropped the third degree and brought Bruce up to speed about the ‘New’ Avengers, its facility, and roster. Tony neglected to mention how he fit in with the new line-up, which he found… interesting. Bruce didn’t press the issue. Whatever Tony wasn’t telling him was bound to come up at some point. “And then,” Tony said grandly, “You get to see the new place I got for me and Pep. Bruce, it’s beautiful. Overlooks Central Park with all that artsy-fartsy stuff she likes. And! Wait ‘til you see the workshop once it’s done. You thought it was sexy before…”

Bruce nodded absently. Tony stopped to give him a long, puzzled look. Bruce wasn’t sure how to interpret it. Tony sighed and said all in a rush, “Basically I want you to come back to work with me once this is all done. Deal?”

“Okay Tony,” he said, cringing a little. Truth was he wanted to get a better lay of the land before agreeing to anything, especially given what happened last time. He’d go along with at least seeing the place, to say hello to Pepper, but Bruce would have to be careful; Tony had roping him into things down to a science.

“Not that you don’t trust me, right.”

“Tony.”

“Nah, that’s fair. I get it.”

“One thing at a time,” Bruce said. He tried to keep the strain out of his voice, but he suspected Tony knew him better than that.  
Tony opened his mouth to speak, but Natasha’s voice from the cockpit interrupted whatever he was about to say. “We’re almost there. Ten minutes, if that.”

They both muttered their acknowledgements, and Bruce moved to fish out some more crackers.

“Got any more of those,” Tony said. Bruce passed him the rest of the sleeve.

“They’re good,” Tony said, a little more enthusiastically than stale saltines generally warranted. A few crumbs got stuck in his facial hair, but Bruce looked away to focus on finishing his own snack. They would be landing in ten minutes.

*

Steve was there greet them. “It’s good to see you,” he had said once they were all on solid ground. Bruce firmly believed his sincerity. It was Steve, after all.

“It’s good to see you too,” Bruce said, and was surprised to find that he meant it, too. Then Fury pulled Steve aside to speak privately.

From behind him, Tony clapped Bruce firmly on the shoulder, and didn’t so much as give Steve a second glace before making himself scarce. Bruce threw Natasha a quick, confused look but she just very subtly shook her head no. He’d be away too long. He wasn’t sure if there really was a new sense of awkwardness that had settled over the team since he’d been away, or if he was imagining it. Time would tell.

Fury moved away from his little confab with Steve to offer Bruce some rote words of thanks for agreeing to come back with them. Honestly, Bruce wished he hadn’t. He’d seen that show before, and hoped he wasn’t in for a repeat performance. Steve told him to go see the rest of the facility, and then get settled in. Natasha would be his tour guide.

“Debrief at oh five hundred,” he said. He paused, and then said a bit more fondly, “I mean 5 a.m.” Bruce nodded and they said their goodbyes.

“That is way too early,” Bruce muttered as he watched Steve go. Bruce looked around. Turned out he and Natasha were the only ones left standing on the windy tarmac.

“You should see Rogers when it _isn’t_ his day off,” she teased. Bruce pretended to look horrified. She started walking the same direction Steve had just a few moments before, and Bruce had to do a little jog-walk to keep up. He felt like a small puppy, trailing a half a step behind her.

“I don’t bite,” she said. Then before he even had a chance to respond, she said, “You don’t either, so don’t even try.”

He put his hands up in defeat, which earned him a crooked smile.

“I’ll show you around,” she said. She said it like she was asking him to follow her anywhere, to hell and back if need be. He swallowed, because he was afraid he would. He wanted to be angry with her. He wanted to blame her, but he knew he couldn’t. He was in limbo here, trapped between where he was going and where he’d been. He didn’t know what he wanted, so it was pointless to blame anyone other than himself.

The facility was a lot bigger than he’d expected, and a lot busier, too. He realized with a start that a big part of Tony’s moodiness might have been brought about by the realization that the Avengers had outgrown him.

Natasha laughed when he mentioned this to her. “No,” she said. “Well, maybe, but that’s not it.”

“Then what is it?”

“He quit,” she said matter-of-factly.

“I don’t know about that,” Bruce said. “He doesn’t make a distinction between himself and Iron Man.”

She shrugged. “You should to talk to him about it, not me.”

He wasn’t sure if that was a good idea, so he said, “Okay.”

She gave him a deeply skeptical look, but didn’t say anything further.

*

“Can I live here?” Bruce asked once he came across Helen Cho, Helen Cho’s team, and of course, Helen Cho’s lab. “Because I kinda want to live here.”

He had so many questions. Questions like, what are you researching and/or inventing? Who was footing the bill? (It wasn’t Stark, clearly. He hoped it wasn’t the military. Was it SHIELD? Were they still around?) The fact that he didn’t know the answers to any of those questions gave him pause, though the sheer size of the lab and its resources did put Tony’s invitation to come back to work for him into new light.

Natasha hung back as Bruce got reacquainted with Helen specifically, and science generally. He lost track of time, though, and eventually she had to pull him back up to surface for air. She tried playfully shaming him for losing himself to siren call of science, but he wasn’t biting. He almost said, “What’s the harm?” But they both knew full well what that was.

The mess hall (or was it a commissary? Bruce wasn’t up on the lingo) was just as wide and spacious as the rest of the place, especially since it seemed to be the off hours. There were only a handful of other folks seated at the densely packed cafeteria style benches, none of whom Bruce knew. Natasha vanished and a few minutes later returned with two plastic wrapped tuna sandwiches, and a couple of cans of off-brand cola.

Natasha picked at her sandwich, though Bruce was hungrier than he thought; he’d demolished the thing still hoping there’d be more. Somehow she knew that and wordlessly placed the untouched half of her sandwich in front of him, which he ate before remembering his manners.

“Thank you,” he said, rather sheepishly.

“Any time,” she said.

They stayed like that for longer than was maybe justified, sipping no-name Coke and talking. He wanted things between them to be this simple. He didn’t actually know what he wanted at all.

Eventually Natasha brought him around to where the sleeping quarters were housed. It was dark and he could see some stars twinkling overhead, and a big orange moon trying to peak through a tall line of pine trees. Somewhere nearby he heard drunken laughter and the occasional song, sung with gusto and entirely off key. He didn’t know why it made him as sad as it did.  
Natasha didn’t linger in his doorway or otherwise waste his time. She showed him how to work the shower, where to find the toiletries and a change of clothes. She was brisk and professional and displayed none of the warmth and affection she had in the past; even as recently as a soggy tuna sandwich dinner.

He nodded, wished her a standard “goodnight,” and tried settling in. He found himself longing for his dilapidated tent, the roar of ocean waves, and isolation. He had to admit that the bed was comfortable, if a bit rough and utilitarian.

“This isn’t a break,” he said aloud, “just the calm before the storm.”


	4. Chapter 4

He, Natasha, Steve, and Tony trudged through quiet, isolated forest somewhere in upstate New York. “O.G. Avengers” Tony had said as he belted into his jump-seat just before they departed from Avengers HQ. “You know, original recipe,” he clarified when Bruce gave him a blank stare. He pointed out that the word recipe didn’t begin with a G, which just earned Bruce an extremely exaggerated eye roll. “Sometimes you’re worse than Rogers,” Tony said, and Bruce cringed, because, well, that was truer than he really wanted to admit. Saying anything to that effect wasn’t fair to Tony, though, especially since he hadn’t meant it that way.  
  
So instead he said, “You’re forgetting Barton.”

Natasha, seated to his left, gave him a little lopsided smile. “Family leave,” she said.

Bruce formed his mouth into an ‘O’ shape, and nodded. He imagined Barton in his farmhouse holding his newborn, and despite himself, his gut twisted a little. “Tell him congrats for me,” he muttered.

“Tell him yourself when this is all done,” she said.

Bruce didn’t think that was likely to happen, so he nodded absently and said, “Yeah, okay. I’ll do that.”

As they walked, Bruce fell behind Tony and Steve a few paces. They were arguing. Tony’s voice carried the loudest, but Bruce couldn’t tell what they were arguing about. He supposed it wasn’t his business.

After a while, Natasha looked back at him and slowed to match his pace. He had stumbled over a rock, though he thought his recovery was smooth enough to escape notice. He mentally kicked himself, because he really should have known better than that--obviously no one was more perceptive than Natasha Romanoff—yet somehow he was just foolish enough to hope anyway.

“Hey,” she said. “No slacking back here.”

What she actually meant was, “How you holding up,” or “It’s not too late to back out, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said and shrugged. He didn’t mind walking, seeing how he had plenty of experience with it these past few years, and anyway, it was actually rather pleasant. There was something about all this that appealed to him--the rustle of the leaves whenever the light breeze moved through the tall color-kissed trees of early autumn; the trill of birds as they called out for mates or warned their neighbors about the aliens marching through their territory; the warm, inviting smell of smoke from some far off wood stove or fireplace (or smoldering brush fire.) He tended to be drawn to extremes, he thought—it was either the total isolation of his erstwhile island home or the crush of humanity in the crowded streets of Kolkata (or New York City.) There wasn’t a middle ground. That said something about him, he just had no idea what that could be.

“Could be worse,” he said. “At least it’s not running.” He smiled a little, and then cringed once he realized what he said, because he hadn’t meant it that way.

“Is that so.” she said. She didn’t look at him. She didn’t look like someone who had just spoken, in fact, he thought she looked more focused on casually strolling through the woods just as if they weren’t about to knock on the bad guys’ door. He raised his eyebrows and looked at her over his glasses.

“Natasha.”

She slowly turned her head to look at him.

“Yes,” he said. “Right now? Yes. Walking with you is much better than some of the alternatives I can think of.” His face warmed as he said it, and tried to look away.

“Right now,” she repeated, and seemed to ignore the rest. “You’re either back or you’re not Bruce. You can’t have it both ways.”

“Natasha,” he said, as she picked up her pace to catch up with Steve and Tony. “That’s not fair.” Truth be told, he was the one who wasn’t being fair. The only thing he wanted, at this moment was to focus on the task at hand, and then sort out all their personal nonsense after. “One thing at a time,” he had said to Tony. As for Natasha, he knew that his indecision was keeping her in limbo, and he didn’t think she cared for that very much.

Steve stole a quick glance back at him, and the space beside him that Natasha left vacant. He guessed it was Steve’s turn to wonder what going on, and why they were arguing, though Bruce guessed it was probably fairly obvious. Then, following Steve’s lead, Tony turned to look, too. He was a lot less subtle about his nosiness than Steve was. Bruce glared at him. To his credit, Tony had the decency to look embarrassed at being caught gawking. He quickly turned away and continued on with whatever he and Steve had been… discussing.

“I don’t… I mean,” he started to say to her retreating back, because Bruce wanted to see how things played out with this whole ‘other Hulk’ thing before committing to anything. Or maybe he was a coward. There was always that possibility.

Before he had a chance to clarify his thinking, everything went to shit. He was forced to the ground by some sort of explosion, and then time slowed way, way down. Steve and Tony and Natasha were shouting, and they seemed very far way. His face was in the dirt, and he couldn’t stop his fists from clenching. It was times like this that he was acutely aware of just how much a liability he was.

Then Natasha was basically on top of him, yelling something into his ear that he couldn’t understand.

“Natasha, I don’t need you to—I can… it’s okay if I--”

“Shut up and stay down,” she said. He understood that just fine. Then she twisted her body around and was... shooting at something.

“Nat--” he started to say, but she elbowed him in the back of the head.

“Pretty sure I said stay down.”

There was only about an hour of daylight left, and Bruce was sure that this morning had been a long time ago.

*

That morning, when she came to collect him, it was still dark. He guessed it was about an hour and a half before sunrise. He hadn’t wanted to leave the snug confines of his bed, though he knew better than to get used to such things as warm beds, so it wasn’t too difficult to be up and ready by the time Natasha knocked on his door.

Opening the dresser drawers, he found dark, practical clothing folded and set aside just for him. There was plenty to choose from, but no variety in color whatsoever, unless differing shades of dark grays and blues counted as variety. All of it fit perfectly, which made him a little suspicious. Even the pair of sturdy boots he found near the door was better constructed than anything he’d owned in years.

He and Natasha walked along the hard clay path that took them from the rows of soulless army barracks style sleeping quarters and toward the main building for the morning’s debriefing.

“Look at you,” Natasha said, giving him a none-so-subtle once over. “Looks like you missed your calling.” He looked at Natasha in her Black Widow get-up, and then looked back down at himself. They looked a matched set, dressed in their respective snug black outfits, each one sporting the famous Avengers logo, embroidered in gray. He thought the optics of the whole thing gave off the wrong impression, just as though he was a part of a cohesive unit rather than just someone tagging along for the ride.  
Bruce laughed a little. “Oh no,” he said. “I’ve missed all my callings.” He gestured down toward himself. “This would just be one among a long list of them.”

Bruce saw the large white building in which the meeting was to be held over which a winged man swooped and landed near the doorway. His wings retracted as he walked toward them. Pulling his goggles up on top of his head, he smiled widely at Natasha and then extended a hand to Bruce, which Bruce promptly accepted. He had met Sam Wilson before, but he couldn’t say they knew each other especially well. “Hey, doc,” Sam Wilson said. “This is some freaky shit, right?” Bruce nodded. He guessed he meant this mission to find the Hulk creature thing, but honestly Bruce didn’t really find it freaky. Maybe apropos was a better word for it. Judging how he was dressed, Bruce guessed Wilson was an Avenger now, too.

“Steve’s inside already, got his little PowerPoint demonstration all ready to go,” Sam said.

“Too bad,” Natasha said with a smirk. “Here I was hoping it was something hilarious, liked slate boards and chalk. Or stone slabs.”

“Hieroglyphs,” Sam said without missing a beat.

Bruce shoved his hands in his pockets, and they continued inside. There actually wasn’t any sort of presentation set up, just Steve at the head of a small conference table. He stood to greet them, and then motioned for them to have a seat.

Bruce noticed Tony hadn’t yet arrived, and when the door opened, Bruce turned expecting to see him. Except it wasn’t Tony.

Bruce stood up when he saw her.

“No,” he said, and started to make his way toward the door. There was absolutely no way he was letting that Maximoff girl anywhere near him.

“Bruce,” Natasha said from somewhere behind him. She called after him again in a much sterner voice. Bruce turned to see Maximoff hovering next to Natasha, and it made him want to lash out, lash out for what she did to him, but mostly for what she did to all of them, collectively. He didn’t, because he didn’t actual want to escalate thing quite to that extreme. Instead, he glanced up to in time to see Steve carefully watching the situation unfold.

“I thought…” Maximoff said. Her voice was uncertain, and Bruce thought it was good act.

Natasha moved next to where he was standing and pressed her shoulder against his. She moved her head to look down at his boots and said, “My shoes look good on you.”

He looked at his boots too, because it seemed such a non-sequitur. “What?”

“My shoes,” she said again, this time slower as if she expected him to catch up. “They look good on you.”

“I’m not wearing your-- Oh,” he said, because he was an idiot. “The other foot,” he said. “You mean the shoe is on the other foot.”

“That too,” she said. And it was true. He was standing where Natasha had been not so long ago. She had been much more generous toward him than he maybe deserved.

He looked at Steve, who was back in his seat, and then to Maximoff. She said, “I understand, you know. “ She gestured at Bruce, and continued, “I don’t blame you for your hesitation. I am not so certain I would be quick to trust, either, were in your place.”

He looked at Steve again. “We’re on the same side, here,” Steve said. He said it rather brusquely; as if he were annoyed anyone would mistrust his judgement. These folks were all Avengers, though Bruce wasn’t sure he could say the same about himself.

“No, you’re right,” Bruce said to Steve, then looked at Maximoff. “It’s hard for me, but thank you for,” he gestured to the room, “being here, and… helping.” She offered her hand, and Bruce looked at it for a long moment before accepting. He caught Natasha’s eye as he took his seat. She said, “thank you,” with a small nod. He shot her a confused look, until he thought on what she had just said to him about shoes and standing in someone else’s.

That was when the door behind him slammed open with Tony framed in the doorway. He held two cardboard coffee trays stacked one on top of another, and narrowed his eyes, looking at each person in the room, but eyeing Bruce the longest. Then he plastered on the most winning smile Bruce had ever seen as he handed out coffees. “Everyone can relax. I have arrived.” When he got to Bruce, Tony said, “Sorry, Bruce, they were fresh out of leaves and twigs.”

“Thanks,” Bruce muttered and lifted off the lid. It was chai.

“Here’s what we know,” Steve said. He waited a beat for everyone to finish futzing with their coffees and start paying attention. Then he pulled his phone from his pocket and glanced at Tony. “Can you,” he said, and motioned his head vaguely Bruce’s way. Bruce crinkled his eyebrows and looked at Tony.

“Hm?” Tony said, and then looked at Steve. “Oh, I suppose,” he said with an exaggerated sigh. Tony shifted closer to Bruce. “I’ll share, but only because I like you.”

“I’ve sent each of you a copy,” Steve said, and everyone pulled out their devices. Except for Bruce of course; he didn’t have one of his own. Tony positioned his phone so they both could see. There were the documents Tony had found on the island as well as a couple maps and what looked like an outline or itinerary. Steve walked them through it; they’d split into two teams. (Which brought on a predictable “I pity the fool,” from Tony when Steve referred to them as the ‘A and B Teams.’) B Team would stay hidden to provide surveillance as A Team made their way on foot in effort to be as conspicuous as possible. Natasha visibly bristled, but otherwise stayed quiet.

Steve looked at Bruce and said, “You can hang back in the plane if you want, and wait for a signal if we need you.”

“No, uh-uh,” Bruce said. “That didn’t work out so well last time.” He looked at Maximoff. “No offense.”

“None taken.”

“Okay,” Steve said, and everyone split off into two groups and made their way to the Quinjet.

It was late afternoon by the time they set down somewhere secluded and out of the way, and trekked across crunchy dried leaves for close to an hour before coming under fire.

He didn’t resent Natasha’s protective streak, though he thought maybe he should. It only served to highlight how useless he was on a team, on a mission such as this one. But he wasn’t useless. He was good for exactly one thing.

She told him to stay down, so he slowly rose to his feet.

“What are you--” she shouted, but she knew. “Okay,” she said. “Bruce,” she said, and then stopped. She didn’t say, “Be careful,” because that would be pointless. Her eyes said it anyway. They were the last thing he saw before pushing aside trees and stomping through rough, rocky terrain.


	5. Chapter 5

The way the Big Guy sloughed off Bruce’s clothes and emerge as his own fully formed creature would never fail to amaze Natasha. She’d seen it countless times, of course, and it didn’t shock her, exactly, but the naked truth of it was unlike anything else. Underneath so many layers of lies and bullshit, humans were monstrous creatures. Bruce Banner was maybe one of the very few on the entire planet who came by that truth honestly. It was admirable in its own strange way. Though nothing he’d ever want to hear, hiding from his truth the way he did.

As he scrambled away from her, he kicked up huge clods of dirt, which rained down on her head. She shielded herself with her arms, but it wasn’t enough. She’d be shaking out bits of rock and debris from her hair for a good while now, she was sure.

“Gee. Thanks,” she said to Hulk’s retreating back. He whipped around and gave her a fairly terrifying grin before leaping off somewhere past the tree line. She raised her eyebrows, because it was pretty clear the bastard did it on purpose.

"Watch your back, Banner," she muttered. The forest still echoed with gun-fire, which meant planning some kind of petty revenge would have to wait until the bad guys were done trying to kill her. Natasha dove for cover behind a felled tree, and returned fire.

Overhead, Stark fired off a volley of own, both in repulsor blasts and obnoxious quips. Natasha, thankfully, was fairly decent at tuning him out by now without overlooking anything vital. It was a skill.

Natasha fired off another round, and as she ducked back down behind her downed tree, the sound of gun-fire came to an abrupt stop.

Somewhere off in the distance, Hulk roared. It sounded more pitiful than she would have expected, and that gave Natasha pause. While Hulk was nigh invulnerable, Bruce definitely was not. Maybe she was imagining Hulk’s distress, but she trusted her instincts. Usually. The thing with Bruce was fucked up and complicated, but she couldn’t be sure the feelings she had for him weren’t getting in the way of her judgment in the field. It was so much distracting bullshit. It was a problem.

In her earpiece, Steve and Falcon spoke at the same time. “I don’t like it,” from Steve and “Is it me, or is it quiet out here, like scary quiet,” from Sam.

"Okay, that's not good," Stark added. He sounded spooked, even over the radio, which made the hairs on the back of Natasha's head stand.

“Stark,” Natasha said. "Steve. Whaddya boys got." She waited a beat, and when no one responded, she pursed her lips. Crouching back into the ground, she placed her hands firmly into the soft dirt and tilted her head to listen.

She nodded to herself, because they were right. It was quiet, eerily so.

With her palms still pressed to the ground, she felt it more than she heard it; a deep-pitched rumble from somewhere deep underground. The sound dropped in pitch, and kept dropping until she thought her eardrums would burst. Then all at once, it stopped, and her ears popped the way they would with a change of air pressure. She inhaled, and worked her jaw. Craning her head upward to locate the others, she saw a blue-white light pulse out, seemingly from every direction. She braced for it, and it crashed over her like an ocean wave of sound. After it passed, she opened her eyes in time to see Stark drop from the sky like some kind of downed human-shaped missile. She watched, helplessly as he crashed down into a large pine tree no more than twenty feet from her position. It managed to catch him in its sturdy arms like a child, only to snap under his weight a moment later. He went down like a sack of potatoes, broken tree limbs and all.

“Stark!” she yelled. “Get up get up get up.” She said it for the both of them, because her limbs had turned to lead, heavy and useless. She wormed her way through the mud, even as her arms screamed at her. “Stark,” she said once she got to him. “Hey."

“Jesus,” he said, “Somebody remind me to put padding in here next time.”

She breathed out. For what little patience she usually had for his mouthiness, she was grateful for it now. “Yeah,” she said, “For your thick head.” Carefully cradling his helmeted head, she searched for some sort of a catch or release.

“Stark,” she said, keeping her voice even. “I need you--”

He grunted when her fingers caught on some kind of metal edge. “Whoa,” he said flatly, “Slow down. Maybe let me buy you a drink first.”

She shot him an unimpressed look. “Your virtue is safe with me, don’t you worry about that,” she said, imitating his flat tone. “Can you move?”

“Nope. Good to know you still think I have any virtue left, by the way.”

“I don’t,” she said, pulling a little at the cold metal underneath her fingers. “Is this a--”

“Don’t,” he said. “Leave it. I just need a--”

“Hey, I’m a patient girl. Take all the time you need.”

“Sometimes, Romanoff, I swear to god.”

She ignored him and pulled her hands completely away. Then she tapped at her earpiece. There wasn’t anything to listen to, not even the static of dead air.

“Damn,” Stark said. She looked at him. “Not just me then,” he clarified.

“Looks like. All right,” she said to Stark. “When you’ve decided you’re all done napping, come help me find the others.”

“Yup,” he said with a groan, “Will do.”

There was a deep roar from somewhere distant, and she sucked in a breath. She didn't want to admit how relieved she was to hear that sound. Stark, too, if his "Oh thank god," was anything go by. "I thought," he started to say, but Natasha interrupted him.

"Yeah, me too," she said.

She patted his metallic shoulder, letting him know that she was getting up to leave. She grabbed at a fistful of stiff fabric from her own pant leg and pulled up hard. The movement sent a cascade of pins and needles through her body, and she had to bite her lip to stifle the pain. As much as it hurt, the fact that sensation was returning was a good sign. It meant she could get up and moving again.

She pushed herself up and tried to stand. She took a few steps, which were as graceful as a newborn foal, but at least she was walking.

Several hundred feet ahead of her, she spotted Steve and Sam limping along together, leaning hard against one another like one single ambling and kind of dorky entity.

"Hey," she shouted at them. "Hey!"

Both men immediately dropped their arms from each other’s waists. Sam lost his footing at the loss of support from Steve, and stumbled a little as he turned toward the direction of her voice. Steve moved to catch him, but Sam batted him away. Natasha raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips a little, because she wasn’t about to laugh at their bravado and posturing now that they were aware she was watching them. She raised her arms up above her head to get their attention, and immediately regretted it.

"Goddammit," she spat as her every muscle in her arms screamed at her in protest.

"You too, huh," Steve said.

“Lost my wings,” grumbled Sam, “Somewhere back there.”

Steve was looking at him intently. “We’ll get ‘em back, Sam. I promise, but right now--”

“What happened,” Natasha said. She mentally kicked herself for not asking sooner.

Sam whistled and with one finger, gestured in a downward spiral. She remembered the way Stark plummeted out the sky and grimaced.

“I’m fine.”

“He’s fine.”

Natasha tried not to laugh. “All right,” Natasha said. Well, all the boys were accounted for, (save for Bruce) if a bit worse for the wear. Which only left Wanda. They pushed on, forming a tight triangle, with Steve ahead of her and in the lead.

*

Ahead of her, Wanda saw Banner’s figure stumble toward some sort of round domed object embedded in the ground. He was as coordinated as a drunken man and about as belligerent as one as well.

“Hey,” she called, and he whipped his head around and looked at with her with wide, wild and angry eyes.

“You,” he said, voice deep with barely controlled rage. “You did this.” He gestured down toward himself, at his naked torso. Stripped of his power, he felt more naked than even his state of undress suggested. Vulnerable. Wanda was not unsympathetic. He didn’t ask to have his power stripped away. She herself most certainly had not. Surely, that was what had happened. Her head was too quiet, and she couldn’t see or feel any of the infinite probabilities which she could ordinarily unfurl as was her desire. They were gone now, all collapsed down into the single waveform that now existed before her.

“It was not. I swear this to you.”

“Keep away from me,” he said. The hurt and betrayal in his voice was as naked as the rest of him.

She continued approaching him, carefully and deliberately, as if she would an injured creature. He was shaking his head, more and more vigorously as she grew nearer. He stumbled backwards over the metal dome, but recovered well enough to avoid hitting the soft, muddy ground surrounding the structure. Something about it had meaning to him, it seemed, as he then stood up and straightened his spine. Everything that had seemed feral and wild about him just moments before evaporated. All at once he seemed self-conscious of his wild man hair, patting it down ineffectually, dislodging bits of rock and leaves as he did so.

He nodded his head at her and then downward toward the dome. “I’ve seen this before,” he said, sounding… not uncertain, but… confused, maybe.

“What do you think it means?”

“Nothing good, I’m sure,” he mumbled. She was not sure she meant to hear his words. Then: “Help me open this up?” She pursed her lips at his wide-eyed and boyish smile.  


“Yes,” she muttered at him. Though nothing good could come from such a thing, she was sure of it.

Together, they turned the giant metal wheel which sat atop the strange domed structure oddly placed in the middle of a forest. As they did, an uncanny roaring sound rumbled from somewhere not so far from where they stood. It was an impossible sound. A Hulk sound. Banner looked unnerved. The wheel beneath their hands hit a stop, and with a tug, the hatch opened up into a deep, dark cavernous maw below.

The air inside smelled stale and dusty, but she knew they would have to climb down into it on the rusty and unstable ladder.

The creature roared again, and they were both scrambling inside toward whatever dark secrets awaited them.

*


End file.
